


A slippery road

by Prisca



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisca/pseuds/Prisca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zeke Tyler usually doesn't care much about others but this time it is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A slippery road

Zeke stared at the nervous looking boy in front of him, his thoughts were racing. Not that it was new that someone asked him for hard drugs though the answer was always the same. Zeke made good money with selling a lot stuff at Herrington High. Faked ID-Cards, porn, condoms and booze. But he was not an idiot. Beside of some pot and his homemade drug named Scat he would never sell harder stuff to these fools. If they wanted to kill themselves they would have to look for another dealer.

Casey was non of his customers. The boy sometimes seemed like an alien for Zeke. He was a brilliant student but as much as his teachers liked him the other students ignored and bullied him. He never tried to stand up for himself, hurried through the halls with this stupid camera around his neck, in the useless try to escape the jocks. After school he would hurry to the bus, to go home where his mother probably would wait for him with a homemade lunch and a lot questions about his day. The Connors were like that.

“What exactly are you thinking about,” Zeke finally asked.

Casey stared at him with dark blue eyes. Which was new too, usually he tried to avoid eye contact.  
“Some pills, the good stuff, not your homemade shit. I have money to pay for it, don't worry.”  
And he pulled some crumbled bills out of his pocket, about two hundred dollars, a lot money for someone like Casey who usually didn't even have enough money for a chocolate-milk in the schools cafeteria.

Zeke scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. The dark circles around his eyes, his pale face. His strange behavior at school this week, the missed homework, belated for the lessons. Zeke hadn't payed much attention to all this, it was not his business. But Casey, asking for hard drugs … that was nothing he could ignore.

“What do you want to do with it,” he asked.

Casey huffed.  
“Flush it down the toilet,” he spat.  
“Why do you care anyway? What kind of dealer are you?”

“A guarded one. Tell me what's going on and I will see what I can do for you.”

“Oh, fuck you, Tyler!”  
Annoyed Casey stuffed the money back into his pocket, grabbed for his backpack and turned to the door of the washroom.  
“I will find someone else who sells me what I want without bothering me with stupid questions.”

The bad feeling deepened, Herrington was just a small town but Zeke knew it wasn't that difficult to find another dealer who would be willing to take the money without worrying about the customer. Shit, shit, shit, he cursed inwardly and followed Casey.

“Hey, wait!”

“What?”  
The smirk on Casey's face told stories about an angry, desperate, lost guy. This was so not good.  
“You've changed your mind?”

Zeke looked around before answering, as if he wanted to make sure that no one else was around.  
“I don't have stuff like this with me, too risky at school,” he murmured.  
“Come to me later. My garage.”

+++

“Come on in.”  
Zeke pointed at the old couch.  
“Make yourself comfortable.”

Casey was still standing at the door of the garage though he risked a curious glance. Zeke's garage, his lab, his sanctuary, he didn't invite much people here. He had always wondered how it would look in here. It was a kind of a comfortable mess and under other circumstances he would have enjoyed it to be here. But he needed to remember that Zeke was not his friend, never was, never would be. No one wanted to be close with someone like him. Again he felt tears pricking in his eyes but he had learned to fight them.

“I'm not here to hang around with you,” he said.  
“Come to the point.”

Zeke shrugged and went over to his lab-table, opened a drawer and filled some colorful pills into a small bag.  
“Calm down,” he said.  
“Here, that's all I can do for you. So, where is the money?”

Slightly hesitating Casey finally stepped closer and eyed the content of the bag suspiciously.  
“What's that?”

“What you asked me for. The best you will get for your money. Usually it's sold at scene clubs.”

He would not tell him the truth. The pills were made out of more or less harmless stuff one could buy in every drug store. Like his Scat. People did ask him very often lately for pills, so he had decided to go with this trend. After summer-break he would be ready to sell them at school.

“Okay.”  
Casey nodded but Zeke noticed the uneasiness in his eyes when he pulled the money out of his pocket and gave it to him. He pretend to count the bills to gain some time, still not willing to let him go.

“It's hot in here, I guess I could need a beer,” he murmured.  
“Want one? Heineken, the best. Part of the service.”

Casey huffed.  
“I don't drink.”

Suddenly somehow annoyed Zeke threw the bills heedlessly onto one of the shelves, filled with books, comics, videos and turned back to Casey. With narrowed eyes he stared him down.  
“Sure, you prefer to cloud your mind with other shit. Believe me, Casey, it's a slippery road you are taking. And it won't help ... whatever your problem is.”

The reaction was stunning. Never before Zeke had seen Casey that angry, that desperate, his fists hit him hard at his chest, it made him stumble back and gasping for breath. Whoa, that boy was stronger than everyone supposed.

“Fuck you, Zeke,” he yelled, shaking with rage.  
“Stay out of my life. I don't care. I just don't care anymore. Everything is a fucking mess. My parents hate me. Everyone hates me. All I want is to forget at least for a while.”

Zeke was still not sure what exactly he was talking about but he knew he had to be careful with what he said next.  
“You are not the only one with shitty parents. It's not a reason to fuck up your future though.”

“Don't do that!”  
Casey's eyes were still flashing with anger.  
“Don't talk to me like a fucking shrink. The last I need. My dad wants me to go to one, he says I need help to turn into a real man.”

Zeke frowned.  
“What kind of bullshit is this?”

Casey shrugged.  
“My mom was sneaking around in my room, like always, found the magazines. Told my dad about it, I thought he would lose control and hit me, but then he just yelled that he will never accept it that his son is acting like a … a fag. He … he says when I don't go to a shrink to get some help … he doesn't have a son anymore.”

Oh shit. Zeke needed a moment to let all this sink in, all pieces of the puzzle suddenly fall into the right place. Well, it actually wasn't a big surprise that Casey was gay. He had never shown any interest in the girls at school. But okay, in the guys neither, he had almost acted like an asexual being. Zeke wondered when he had noticed first that he liked guys. How long he had tried to fight this feelings. To feel like he was supposed to feel. A stupid try to fool himself, all in vain, of course. Finally the bomb was exploded and hit everyone will full force. And instead of reaching out to their son his parents acted as homophobic as someone could be. No wonder that the boy felt lost enough to think drugs would be the only solution.

Zeke wasn't sure why he felt sympathy for Casey, usually he didn't care much about others, but there was something about him, about the way he acted, which felt familiar.

“What did he say? The shrink, I mean.”

Casey looked at him defiant.  
“I refused to go.”

A slight smile sneaked onto Zeke's lips.  
“Good decision,” he said.  
“That's so stupid. As if homosexuality is an infectious disease and needs to be cured.”

“I almost wish it would be possible.”  
Casey's voice was low, barely to understand, as if all his energy was used up.  
“I'm so sick of it always to be the freak.”

“Hm. But it's up to you to change that. Drugs will not help you though. Better start to accept what you are. Being gay is not the end of the world. No matter what others try to tell you. And you are not as alone as you think, believe me, even in Herrington you can find other gays.”

Casey threw a dark glance at him.  
“Fine, I will place an advertisement in the 'Herrington Post'. Geeky gay boy is looking for like-minded guys. Think this will help?”

Zeke couldn't help it to tease him a bit.  
“Sure, when you are looking for a quick fuck.”  
Cute. He was blushing. Zeke refused to think about the ideas which crossed his mind.  
“I know a club in Columbus,” he said.

Casey frowned.  
“I bet you know a lot Clubs,” he spat.

“A Gay-Club.”  
Satisfied Zeke noticed Casey half surprised, half curious look.  
“Good music. Nice guys. Dancing, chatting, also a bit flirting. I'm sure you would like it.”

“That's ridiculous.”  
Casey shook his head.  
“I can't dance. And as if someone would like to flirt with me.”

“Why not? You are a smart, interesting guy.”  
Casey started at him flabbergasted while Zeke eyed him up and down.  
“Hmmm. But we need to work on your outfit.”

“What's wrong with my outfit?”

Zeke smirked.  
“Really, Case, I don't want to offend you but it outright cries: I'm a geek. No need to worry though.”

He turned to the shelf and grabbed for the money Casey had given him for the pills. He didn't need it, his parents didn't care much about him but his bank account was always sufficiently covered. And, if all would go to plan, Casey wouldn't need the pills. Never again.

“C'mon. Shopping-tour.”

The boy blinked, outright confused now.  
“Shopping ... what?”

“We are going to the Mall,” Zeke explained.  
“There is a thrift store who sells even designer clothes for a very low price. And then you need a hair-cut.”

“You will not fuck around with my hair,” Casey protested halfhearted.

Zeke laughed.  
“Don't worry, I know a girl, Jeanette, she's a brilliant hair-stylist. And she owe me, so you will get your hair-cut for free.

Trust me. Tomorrow evening in the Club you will have a shitload of fun and turn more than just one head.”

**Author's Note:**

> written for ffc - challenge 15.20 - slippery slope
> 
> also posted at my LJ


End file.
